A New Lie
by Harmony Goldstar
Summary: "Perhaps Meghan was a nice person who would give the scary looking NSA agent one more afternoon of peace." Meghan Gray is forced into a new identity and a new life in LA, where she meets and works with Team Bartowski, and somewhere along the line, despite claiming to not believe in love, falls for John Casey.
1. Chapter 1

"My name is Meghan Gray. I was born in San Francisco on March 11. I am 29 years old. I work at Orange Orange in Burbank, California. I was visiting friends in Virginia. My name is Meghan Gray. I was born in San Francisco on March 11. I am 29 years old. I work at Orange Orange in Burbank, California. I was visiting friends in Virginia. My name is Meghan Gray…"

"Now boarding, flight 732 to Burbank, CA."

I stopped reciting the details of my new identity, and stood up, towing the suitcase and bag that held all of my belongings. It was time, once again. I boarded the plane, stowed my luggage and took my seat, in between a woman and a man. The woman wrinkled her nose at me, and I realized that the smell of the dye had not yet gone from my hair. I should apologize. My cover personalities would all apologize. Right now though, I'm not Grace and I'm not Skye, and I'm not yet Meghan. I'm just an agent. And Agent K does not apologize for anything. Agent K is the one identity that follows me each move. Agent K is the heartless, combat ready, cold person who has been inside of me from my very first day at the academy. Agent K gets the job done.

As the passengers collectively ignored the flight attendant telling us what to do in an emergency, I stared down at my finger nails. I was told to paint them. They're orange. As the plane took off, the man turned to me and said,

"Hi, I'm Matt. I'm headed to Cali for business, how about you?"

"I'm Meghan. I was out here visiting friends, so I'm going home," I heard myself say.

"That's great. It must be nice to live somewhere so warm," he said.

"Yeah, I guess." The truth was, I didn't know. I had lived my whole life in mostly cold cities. Washington was the farthest south I'd ever traveled. Burbank, California was a new one.

I spent the flight reading a trashy romance novel one of my guards had picked up after Grace died. It wasn't what I would have chosen, but it was something to do, and since I had been trapped in a guarded hospital room for what felt like years, I became bored quickly.

When I finally escaped from the plane, I was greeted by the overwhelming brightness of the sun. Burbank was _sunny_. Scanning through the letter that contained a sparse collection of details about my next assignment, I located my new address. I would be sharing an apartment with one John Casey, in Echo Park. I was shocked by the unpleasant wave of heat that attacked me as I stepped out of the air conditioning to look for a cab.

Knowing full well that John Casey was likely at work, I decided to make my introduction dropping in unannounced at the Buy More.

The refreshing wave of cool distracted me momentarily, as I fell into my new cover. I headed straight for the computer section, needing to purchase a new laptop, since Grace's had been confiscated as evidence. It was time for an upgrade anyway, charged to the federal government. As I was examining the new models, a salesman approached me. After glancing at the nametag and determining it was not the man I was looking for, I declined help, and hoped he would go away. I was not so lucky.

"Hi. Can I help you with anything? I don't think I've seen you in here before, are you new to town?"

"I'm good thanks." Seriously, was this guy a complete idiot? Just because I'd never frequented this… fantastic… establishment, didn't necessarily mean I was new.

"Well, if you need any help, don't hesitate to ask for Morgan," he said, pointing to his nametag.

"Uh, there is one thing you could do for me," I said. He looked hopeful. Oh no, this one was a flirter. "Which one's John Casey?" I asked. His face fell, but he pointed to the toughest looking employee in the place, who was currently snarling at another creepy looking employee. Was everyone in this place a freak?

I sighed and made a quick decision regarding the computer. I had several other purchases to make on the government's tab, and I figured that perhaps Meghan was a nice person who would give the scary looking NSA agent one more afternoon of peace.

My next stop was at a nearby shopping mall, where I purchased a new cell phone, and lunch. As I ate my salad, I couldn't quite ignore the soreness that was beginning to seep from my right side. But, there were things to do, and places to be. I wandered around, and made several clothing purchases, figuring that since my whole life had consisted of air conditioning and northern cities, my wardrobe wouldn't exactly be equipped to deal with California. It had been, once upon a time, when I lived with my parents and enjoyed summer more than any other time, but that was a great while ago.

I bought some shorts, a selection of shirts, and a few dresses. Then, since I had no idea what this particular chapter of my life might bring to me, I impulsively bought a very skimpy black bikini. It was California. Maybe someday I'd go to the beach.

With my next two purchases, I thought of the man I would be living with for the next undetermined amount of time. I knew that appearances could be deceiving, and I was intrigued. I walked confidently into Victoria's Secret, dragging my luggage and shopping bags with me. I knew what I wanted, and what looked good on me, so it was a fairly quick stop, at least in terms of lingerie shopping. The final store I went into was a shoe store, where I bought a pair of sparkly dark purple stilettos.

I have owned a lot of clothes. It might not seem like it, since all I had fit into two suitcases, but that was a rule of the trade. People like me replace belongings often. That's the case, when you've been three people in your lifetime, and you only get two suitcases and half a day's notice.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, since I apparently forgot this the first time around, let's try it again. I promise to be brief. This is my first foray into the world of Chuck. I hope you enjoy, and I'd love a review (maybe as a Christmas present?) Merry Christmas everyone! **

Since it was getting close to dinner time, my next stop was the apartment complex where I would be living. Casing the parking lot, I located my new ride. For what I had determined about Meghan so far, it fit my cover perfectly. A girl like Meghan would have a sporty car, because she was a sporty person, and she was hot, and most definitely using her hotness to get what she wanted. Meghan has brown hair with auburn highlights. She has brown eyes, and fair skin, that will hopefully tan, not burn. Meghan is going to be showy. She will use her beauty and charm to get what she wants; something Grace was never allowed to do.

I set my bags down in the center of the courtyard, and after ensuring that the area was clear, I sat on the edge of the fountain, facing the only entrance to the courtyard, from the parking lot. My left hand drifted to the spot on my right side, in the middle of my rib cage, and I rested it there for a few moments, hoping to dull the ache that was now becoming more noticeable. Too much moving, too much stretching. Maybe I should have listened more carefully to the doctors. I fished some painkillers out of one of my bags, and swallowed the pills. I hoped that John Casey wouldn't be long.

John Casey was, surprisingly, one of the last people to return to the complex that night. It was well past seven when he finally arrived. Until then, I had been looked at and greeted by no less than three other people, who I assumed to be my new neighbors. They seemed like mostly nice people.

I stood up when I saw John Casey striding into the courtyard, carrying a backpack that looked far too government issued to contain anything for his job at the Buy More.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Meghan Gray."

"John Casey," he said, and he held out his hand. I shook it, and then picked up my bags and followed him to his apartment. While he unlocked the door, I glanced around and saw a woman, the same woman who greeted me earlier, a doctor of some sort, peeking out a window.

"Who lives in that apartment?" I asked.

"That's Ellie Bartowski," Casey answered, opening the door. "Your room is down that hall. I left the door open," Casey said, and then he disappeared into the apartment. I made my way down the hall and set my bags down on the bed. Turning on the light, I looked around. It was a plain empty room, obviously furnished by the government. I quickly located the bug, but left it alone. It was Casey's apartment. If he wanted to spy on me, that was up to him. I might even have some fun with it later.

I began to unpack, putting my make up bag on top of the dresser, my new clothes in the dresser, and my shoes beneath my bed. Out of my suitcase, I pulled many black outfits, and put those in their own drawer. Those were mission clothes. All in all, my unpacking took about a half hour. What can I say, two suitcases and a few hours shopping doesn't leave a whole lot.

Dropping my shower things and towels in the bathroom on my way by, I headed into the main part of the apartment, looking for Casey and hopefully dinner. Finding neither, I began pacing the apartment, filing away the layout, the distances and the locations of furniture for future reference.

Upon hearing a knock at the door, I automatically reached to the small of my back, where a gun belonged. Finding nothing, I reached for my ankle, looking for a knife. Again, nothing. Then I remembered. I was not Grace Tarpin. I was not Agent K. I was Meghan Gray, frozen yogurt girl. Frozen yogurt girls, to my knowledge, had no need for hidden knives or guns. Hence why I had nothing.

Thankfully, Casey appeared, holding his own gun, and he opened the door to an attractive blonde, carrying a large box and dragging a rolling case. Tucking his gun away, Casey took the box from the blonde, and carried it into the apartment.

After the blonde closed the door, she turned to me.

"I'm Sarah Walker. I work with Casey on Operation Bartowski."

"Hi," I was confused. The doctor lady? I had received no briefing on this operation in DC. "I'm Meghan Gray."

"Nice to meet you. We'll be working together at Orange Orange."

"Oh." Meghan wasn't feeling talkative tonight. That was my body talking, telling me I screwed up and overdid it. Too soon. Much too soon.

"This stuff is all for you," Sarah said. "The box is uniforms for Orange Orange, and the case is guns."

"Oh goody," I said. "I love guns." John Casey grunted. "I'll just take this to my room," I said, to fill the silence. I picked up the box, ouch, and Sarah followed me with the case.

I set the box on my bed, and when I heard the door close, I whirled around, reaching again for the missing gun.

"Relax, it's just me," Sarah said. "You'll get your official briefing tomorrow, but I thought I'd warn you about Casey tonight."

My eyes widened. "Warn?"

"He's mostly harmless if you don't piss him off. He's not happy with General Beckman right now, that's all."

"Why?" I guess Meghan is a questioner.

"She's the one who put you in his apartment. He's mad at her, not you. He'll come round."

"What's he like?"

"Quiet, angry… he likes guns. And he's in love with his car."

"Oh."

I've never lived with a man before. Hell, I haven't lived with another person since I moved out of my parents' house nine years ago. I don't remember how to interact, how to seduce, how to make friends. I remember survival because I learned it. I remember pretending because the last three years of my life have been a complete lie. And now I have to start a whole new lie, all over again.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed! Here's another chapter, and it's even a bit longer! To answer a question, this is before Chuck and Sarah got together, and as you'll see in the future, the timeline doesn't quite fit with all elements of the show, but that's why this is fanfiction, right! **

**Hope you enjoy! :)**

The doorbell rang again, and I followed Sarah back into the living room. Standing in John Casey's apartment was the doctor lady, Ellie Bartowski, no longer in blue scrubs, holding a casserole.

"Hi, you must be our new neighbor!" she said.

"Meghan Gray, nice to meet you," I said.

"I brought over some of my famous casserole for you guys for dinner tonight."

"Thanks, it smells lovely," I said. Casey grunted again, and took the dish from Ellie.

"Well, Devon will be home any minute, so I've got to run. See you around, Meghan, Sarah, John."

Just like that she was gone, leaving me standing between Casey and Sarah.

"I should go too," Sarah said. "See you at nine tomorrow at Orange Orange, Meghan. Goodnight Casey."

"Goodnight," I said. Casey grunted. Sarah was right. He doesn't talk much.

I followed him into the kitchen, and watched as he pulled two plates and two glasses out of a cabinet. I thought I should offer to help, but since I didn't know where anything was in his kitchen, I remained silent. He scooped casserole onto the plates, and poured himself a glass of scotch. He held the bottle up, asking if I wanted some, and I nodded, fairly certain that the painkillers I took were not supposed to be mixed with alcohol, but then, anything to dull the pain a little more.

I took my plate and my glass and followed him to the living room, where we ate in silence. When I finished, I put my dishes in the sink and snuck back to my room, as quietly as possible. I booted up my new computer and began to fix the settings to my personal preference. I did the same to the phone. All that was left was internet access, and the important phone numbers I supposed I would get at the briefing in the morning.

It was strange. I dreaded going out into the living room to ask John Casey about the internet. I shook my head. I was not afraid of him. Just… wary. Cautious. Perhaps tomorrow, when hopefully, he would be less irritated.

Instead, I decided to take a shower. No matter what my name is, I will never be a morning person. I grabbed a clean sports bra, tank top and boy short panties, and walked across the hall to the bathroom, where I started up the shower, and stripped.

Looking at myself in the mirror before it fogged up, I noticed my gaze once again zeroing in on the bandage that still covered the right side of my chest, just below where the line of my bra would be. Sighing, I pulled that off too, wincing as the adhesive tape separated from my skin. Beneath the bandage, the wound from the bullet was still an angry red color, and it still hurt, especially when I overdid it, like today.

According to the doctors in DC, I was supposed to refrain from any strenuous physical activity, including but not limited to, carrying heavy or awkward objects, running, sex, and lifting my right arm for long amounts of time. As I stepped into the shower, I realized exactly how too much my activities had been. The wound burned, and I suddenly felt very weak, and a tiny little bit faint. I wasn't sure if that was exhaustion or my combination of scotch and painkiller.

I finished my shower quickly, and sank to my knees before toweling off, so I wouldn't have to add to my impending embarrassment by falling over first. I pulled my panties on, and struggled with the sports bra, and I slowly and carefully cleaned up my things in the bathroom, before picking up my tank top and hair brush. I walked slowly back to room, my left hand grazing the wall just in case. I picked up the bag of medical supplies from the top of my dresser, and began my slow dizzy walk of shame to the living room.

I leaned against the doorway between the living room and the hall, about to say something to catch Casey's attention, when I heard another voice.

"She will be staying in your guest room, and that is final, Colonel."

"General, with all due respect…" That was Casey.

"Colonel, humor me. I'm adding her to your team for a reason."

"What reason?" Casey barked.

"Again Colonel. Humor me. I'm playing matchmaker."

Casey snorted, and the video feed clicked off.

I stood in silence. So that was why I was here. I sincerely hoped that there was a mission that involved more guns and less people stuff. Guns were easy. Feelings… feelings made me hurt.

I counted to 60 before taking a few steps into the room, placing myself in Casey's line of sight.

"Casey?" I said quietly. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I really need your help." I looked down at the floor as soon as I said it, and I could feel his eyes on me. This was a terrible way to start out any kind of professional relationship, but there was nothing I could do.

When I looked up, he was still watching me. Perhaps with interest, as I was half naked, but then, maybe he was just annoyed at the interruption. I took a few more swaying steps toward him, and stopped again, hoping the dizziness would fade.

After my vision returned to relative normal, I spoke again, in a near whisper.

"I uh, overdid things today. I can't re-bandage this on my own," I said. He nodded, and I think his hard expression softened just a tiny bit. I crossed the room to stand by the couch beside him, and as soon as I stopped I could feel myself falling. I felt a strong arm wrap around me, fingers splayed across my lower back, holding me steady. The dizziness faded again, and I sat down on the couch.

"Lie down," he said. His voice sounded rough, and through the fog of pain, dizziness and exhaustion, I registered the command, and obeyed. He picked up the bag of medical supplies; I must have dropped it, although I don't recall doing so, and he began to methodically cover the wound again.

As he worked, I found myself watching in fascination, as if this was the first time someone had dressed this wound. It finally registered in my foggy brain what was actually happening, and my own level of detachment frightened me. John Casey, a man I didn't know and had almost no reason to trust, was touching me, and I was barely even awake enough to notice. Not only that, I was completely defenseless. No gun, no knives, and certainly no upper hand to be gained due to strength. I shivered at that thought.

"All set," he said after a few minutes. I sat up slowly, and reached for my tank top. As soon as I realized I wouldn't be putting it on by myself, I gave up. John Casey was not going to help me get dressed too. Instead, I reached for my hair brush, and asked,

"Would you mind?" I felt my face flush as I voiced the request. I felt like a little kid again, incapable of doing anything. I shouldn't have overdone it. I should have listened, I should have been more careful. I should probably still be in the hospital.

Casey looked bewildered for a moment, but he did reach out and take the brush from my hand. I turned so my back was to him, and used my left arm to flip my tangled hair over both of my shoulders. He began, awkwardly at first. When the brush caught tangles, I swore under my breath as he didn't lessen his force and I felt the tug on my scalp. When my hair was neatly brushed, I turned back, and he handed me the brush.

"Thanks. I'll let you get back to work now," I said, standing up. I picked up my bag of bandages and began the slow walk back to my room. I was relieved when the dizziness wasn't as bad, and I made it to my room with only two stops. I closed the door behind me and pushed the box of uniforms off the bed, falling onto the mattress.

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was shining into my room, and it nearly blinded me as I opened my eyes. I sat up, and was relieved to find that the dizziness from last night was gone. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was only eight. I had plenty of time to get ready.

I got dressed pretty quickly, taking extra care to limit the use of my right arm and the stretching of the muscles on my right side. I quickly did make up, and chose a gun, before heading towards the kitchen and the smell of coffee. In the kitchen I found John Casey, polishing an already shiny gun.

"Coffee?" he asked when I walked in.

"Please. Black," I said. There's never time for milk and sugar in the real world. There shouldn't be in my coffee either. He set the gun down on the counter and poured a cup for me.

"Thanks," I said.

When he had finished with his gun and I had finished my coffee, it was nearly time to go. I retrieved my bag from my room and was fumbling with keys near the door when Casey appeared beside me.

"You can ride in with me," he said, glancing down to where the bullet wound was.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet, I carpool with Bartowski."

We walked out to the parking lot, and I followed Casey to one of the ridiculous Nerd Herd cars I had seen in the Buy More parking lot the day before. I climbed into the back seat, and before I was even buckled, Bartowski was talking.

"Ellie said we had a new neighbor, what's your name?"

"I'm Meghan, and I work at Orange Orange with Sarah."

"Oh."

"I'm Chuck Bartowski, Intersect 2.0." What the hell is an intersect?

I nodded, aware that he couldn't see me, and hoping that my non-reply would be a cue to shut up. It wasn't taken that way. He kept jabbering on to Casey for the entire drive. When we arrived at Orange Orange, they both got out of the car and followed me into the shop. Behind the counter, Sarah was setting up the bowls of toppings.

"Hi guys," she said, and they both stepped around the counter, and followed Sarah into the freezer. I followed, confused, until she opened the door to what was obviously a secret base.

There was a video call with General Beckman, who, I learned, was in charge of Operation Bartowski. This was the person Casey was talking to in the call I overheard last night. She explained what my tasks would be for this team. Basically I was another head for strategy and another hand that could point a gun and shoot.

"Now, Casey, Walker, Bartowski, you have a mission tonight. There's a party and our intel says there is a big drug deal going down. Chuck and Walker will be undercover as a couple, and when Chuck flashes, you will take down the dealers."

"Sorry, General, I'm busy with my sister tonight, so Meghan will have to take my place. She can cover date Casey."

"No excuses Bartowski, your country needs you. Your sister can wait."

"Oh, so Meghan gets a vacation, and I don't? I see how it is," Chuck said angrily.

"I'm not on vacation you moron," I snapped. Chuck's expression turned from anger to confusion. Before he could say anything, Casey jumped in.

"Medical leave. She's not field ready yet."

"And how would you know? She looks fine to me," Chuck snapped. I almost felt bad for him, since he, much like me, was dragged unwillingly into a life of lies. Casey growled at Chuck, but didn't reply. Somewhere during the argument, General Beckman had ended the call.

"Let's get to work guys," Sarah said. "Chuck, can I talk to you for a minute?" That was my cue to leave, and I followed Casey up the steps and back into Orange Orange.

"Thanks for not saying anything about… last night," I said. He grunted. I guess that's the 'yeah, sure' grunt.

A few minutes later a much less angry looking Chuck emerged from the freezer, and he and Casey left.

"So, we open at 11, so we have plenty of time for me to show you the ropes," Sarah said.

"Okay," I said. She explained the basics, and we began to set up the toppings. She pulled out various fruits and bags of candy, and we started filling up the bowls.

"Hey can you go get a bag of ice from the freezer? We need to put that under the fruit."

"Uh, I'm not supposed to lift things yet," I said, my hand drifting to the injury.

"Right, sorry." She got the ice herself, with no questions about what had happened to me. I couldn't answer, and she knew it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone how reviewed! I love to hear your thoughts! Here's another chapter! :) Hope you enjoy.**

It took some getting used to, especially at the beginning, being Meghan, frozen yogurt girl. It was weird to not be out on the streets catching the bad guys. I was starting to go stir crazy. But I understood the need for rest.

Even two weeks after my arrival in Burbank, I was still taking medication around noon most days, and by the end of the day, I was so stiff and sore that I couldn't change the bandages by myself. Every night after the first one, when I walked into the living room, Casey moved over on the couch and I would lie down while he fixed up the bandages. I didn't even watch anymore. I knew enough to trust him. If he was going to kill me, he would have done it the first night, when I was completely physically incapable of fighting back.

It took time, time to heal, time to adjust. Unless I was at Orange Orange or Castle, I was in Casey's apartment. And, being me, I got bored, quickly. Normally when I'm bored, I would do something active, like go for a run, or go out to a club and hope to find a semi-attractive man. But, since neither of those things were on my 'okay activities' list, I was stuck. One day, I figured out that I could cook things. Prior to this assignment, I ate take out or frozen grocery store meals. I didn't have time to cook, and I'd never learned.

I learned how to do some basic things, and I made tomato soup and grilled cheese one night for Casey when he got home. It had been a trying day at the Buy More, I could tell. He didn't say anything at all, but that was normal. Casey didn't talk much. I was mostly okay with that, having lived by myself for nine years.

Even though I was now capable of putting my own bandages on, I still visited Casey in the living room after my shower. Part of me found solace in being cared for, and part of me wanted a reaction to my nearly naked body, a reaction that I was quite used to, but had yet to get from Casey.

At one of my next doctor's appointments, I was told the bandages should stay off for a couple of hours every day if possible, but that the wound shouldn't rub against anything. So basically, no shirt. I wasn't quite comfortable with that, but I wasn't uncomfortable either. After all, I'd been wandering around the apartment every night in nothing but underwear and a bra.

So, after that particular appointment, I went back to the apartment removed the bandages and my shirt. It was a particularly hard day, my little brother's birthday, and I missed him dearly. I wanted to feel something, because I felt nothing inside my soul except cold. I picked out one of the new bras I bought when I first came here, and paired it with black skinny jeans. I painted my toenails purple, and I started making dinner. It was ready, still warm in the oven, as I waited and waited. I wanted Casey to come home and say, do, _something_. I looked up every time there was any noise; John Casey was still not home.

Eventually, I ate my portion of dinner, and I washed dishes, and I cleaned up, and still no Casey. By nine, I was far too worried for my own good. I jumped when the doorbell rang, and I jumped up to see who it was. Hand on my gun, I peered through the peep hole. It was Ellie. I opened the door.

"Hi Meghan. I'm sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if Chuck was here. He's out pretty late."

"He's not. Casey's not home yet either. Maybe something happened at the store."

"Yeah. It's not like him to be so late." She sounded quite worried.

"Come on in, Ellie, can I get you some coffee or anything?"

"Oh, no thanks, I'm all set," she said, stepping into the apartment.

"Was I interrupting something?" she asked, in reference to my state of undress.

"No… I was just…"

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" she exclaimed, seeing the still healing wound.

"Occupational hazard," I said. Crap, she doesn't know… "Wrong place at the wrong time while I was in Virginia," I lied.

"You've gotten it looked at?"

"Yeah. I had an appointment today. I've finally been cleared to do more than sit around and knit. Mild exercise, light lifting, sex, you know, the important stuff."

Ellie laughed. Then she frowned.

"John never mentioned that you guys were…"

"We're not." I shivered at the thought. Me, with John Casey?

"Forgive me for asking, but how come you're living with him?"

"Oh, um, I needed a place to stay, and we have a mutual friend who's trying to set us up. Casey's not interested. Neither am I."

I was saved from any more difficult questions when the door opened, and Casey walked in. He looked angrier than usual.

"Well, I should be going. Nice talking to you Meghan," Ellie said. I couldn't help but notice she didn't quite make eye contact with me or Casey as we said our goodbyes. Casey disappeared, and I heated up his dinner, getting it out of the oven just as he reappeared in jeans and a tee-shirt instead of that awful Buy More uniform.

I noticed his eyes travel over my body as I handed him his plate, but he quickly looked away. I went to take my shower, and by the time I returned to the living room with the bandages, he was busy on his laptop. From across the room, I could tell it was surveillance, and then I saw Ellie. He was spying on our conversation from earlier!

I walked into the room, and plopped down on the couch beside him. He closed his computer quickly, and took off the headphones. I stretched out on the couch, poking his leg with my toe as he got up and took the bandages from me.

"The doc finally cleared me for sex," I said. His eyes widened, and he looked away. He put the bandage on for me, as quickly as possible, and then left the room. I didn't see him at all for the rest of the night. I wished that I could tap into his security and spy on him, to see what he was doing and hopefully figure out why he disappeared after my joking mention of sex.

After he avoided me effectively for the entire next day, I decided that action needed to be taken. I made an especially nice dinner, and for the first time I opened my mouth to speak to him while we were eating.

"Casey, last night… I didn't mean that we should be having sex." When there was no reply, or even acknowledgement, I realized this: John Casey does not talk about feelings, ever. That night, I did my bandages myself.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and here's another chapter! **

I finally started going on missions, only to sit in the van and walk the others through the mission step by step. It wasn't much, but it was something. I had gotten so I could hold my right arm up without it causing my wound to hurt, so that meant I could shoot. Once I could shoot, I was okay to be in the van. That was good. I was starting to go crazy in Casey's apartment.

Otherwise, my life went on. I fell almost completely into character as Meghan. While I was thinking, late at night on a stakeout, I realized that Meghan was simply an older version of Skye. And with that realization, came the most frightening one of all. I would never be Skye Green again. I could take back the name, certainly, but the girl, she was gone.

I would never be Agent Skye Green, because she had never killed, she had never been shot, she had not lived the life I had since she went missing. I would never be Skye Green, the girl who lost her virginity at 23, ever again. These terrifying thoughts filled my head, and the tears began to fall. I was suddenly very very afraid. I was Meghan and Meghan was Skye, but Skye was gone, and I could never get her back.

I looked up, and found, to my relief, that Sarah and Chuck were asleep, and Casey was busy monitoring the security videos.

I could just make out the screen, and I saw someone run across the camera's vision.

"Gunfire," Casey said, and I sprung into action, donning a vest and pulling a gun.

"Bartowski, Walker, wake up," I said, poking both of them in the shoulder. Sarah woke up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and she jumped into action, immediately gathering weapons and leaving the van with Casey. They left me to watch through the cameras. I opted for the volume instead of the headset, and I began coaching Sarah and Casey into the building so they could avoid unnecessary confrontations with hostiles. As soon as there was more gunfire, Chuck woke up.

"Where's Sarah?" he exclaimed.

"Out, doing her job," I replied coldly, focusing on screen and the instructions that needed to be relayed.

"I'm going out," he said.

"Stay in the van, Bartowski."

He got up anyway, and started to move.

"You try to leave, and I will shoot you," I threatened. He turned, and was about to keep going, when I raised my gun.

"But Sarah needs help."

"Sarah does not need your help."

"But..." he said, and he kept moving.

"Getting shot really sucks, Bartowski," I said, keeping the gun pointed at him.

"Fine." He sat back down and stared at the floor, glaring at me every few minutes. I ignored him, and concentrated on Sarah and Casey. They caught the bad guys, and got out with a relatively low amount of trouble. It was very, very early morning when we returned to Castle with the prisoners. There was a check-in with General Beckman, and Casey brought up the issue of Chuck's feelings getting in the way.

"Mr. Bartowski, you need to learn to ignore your feelings. Agent Walker can protect herself. It's her job to protect you, not the other way around," the General said. Chuck had the decency to look ashamed, but I had the feeling this was not the first chewing out he had gotten, and it didn't seem like it would be the last. The call with the General was ended, and Chuck and Sarah moved away from the table to talk.

"You threatened to shoot him," Casey said.

"Yeah…" Of course he heard that. Damn open mic.

"He could be good, if he didn't let his feelings get in the way," Casey said after a pause.

"Unfortunately, I don't think you can turn off love," I said. "But he needs to learn. It's too dangerous."

"You should teach him."

"Me? I can't." Casey gave me the 'you can if I order you to' look.

"I don't believe in love. I believe in sex and brain chemistry and golden ratios. That's not something I can teach him." Casey grunted in acknowledgement. Sarah and Chuck argued their way out of Castle, and we followed, heading up to the parking lot.

On the drive home, we were waiting, for no reason, at a red light, and Casey turned to me and asked,

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You were crying earlier."

Oh yeah. Right.

"I was just thinking." He grunted. I was beginning to understand his non-verbal communication. This was 'I want to ask you a question but I don't actually want to ask.'

I elaborated, "This cover, it's pretty similar to who I really was. But even if I get that name back, I'll never be her again, because I've done terrible things, and terrible things have been done to me, and she wasn't like that. I want her back, but I can't have her. If I believed in such things, I'd say it's heartbreaking. But really it's just breaking."

Casey nodded. He drove on.

"Do you miss being you?" I asked.

"Sometimes I miss what I had," he said after a moment. "But I can't ever get it back."

We arrived at the apartment, and that was the end of the conversation.

The more time passed, the less my gunshot wound bothered me. By mid-fall, I was doing extensive training to regain the strength and abilities I had lost with the injury. I was back to working easy missions, ones where I was not expected to need the strength I still lacked.

Casey and I had an understanding. I made dinner, since I was still only working part time at the Orange Orange, due to the injury. After we ate and I took my shower, I would often join him in the living room, instead of hiding out in my own room.

Sometimes, if there was a dry spell between missions, we watched a movie, and we stayed at our respective ends of the couch, no matter what. I made minor wardrobe changes, in the sense that I made sure I was fully clothed before wandering the apartment. It was for the best. We could not afford to jeopardize the operation. I did not believe in love, so why was I so interested in John Casey?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Eek! I need to write faster! I'm slowly posting away my stockpile of complete chapters. Thanks for the reviews! Hope you enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)**

Before I knew it, Halloween was upon us. While I didn't care one way or the other about the holiday, I dreaded what it brought. After Halloween, there was Thanksgiving, which was mostly okay if I remembered to be grateful I was still alive, but then there was Christmas. I struggled through Christmas.

So, Halloween. Ellie was having a big party, an annual event, I was told, and she had invited Casey and me. I spent a small fortune on my costume, and I was fairly confident that it would be fantastic. I kept waiting for something to come up, to get in the way of the party, but nothing did. I was both excited and dreading it. But really, it was just an excuse to get completely wasted, something I had every intention of doing now that I was completely off painkillers.

As I was nearly finished getting ready, I could hear the sound of voices gathering in the courtyard. The party was starting. I still managed to hear Casey when he walked by my door, however, and I peeked out to see what he was wearing. Long sleeved black sports jacket, black pants, likely a black shirt too. It was his 'let them think what they want' look.

I stood in front of my mirror and made one final adjustment to my dress before putting on my purple stilettos. All in all, I thought my costume was pretty good. It was a very short very tight black strapless dress, and it had some jewels near the waist. My hair was twisted up and I had dark eye makeup on. The lipstick shade I chose might as well have been called "hooker red."

I walked out of my room and found that Casey was waiting for me in the living room. Today, he looked at me. Today, he noticed.

"What are you?" I asked. He shrugged.

"You?"

"An expensive prostitute," I replied with a smirk. With that, I turned and headed out to the party.

Several hours of socializing and not so social drinking later, I was fairly certain that Casey was the only man at the party who hadn't hit on me. The creepy Buy More guys had followed me around for hours before I threatened to drown them in the fountain of booze. They returned not long after, clearly emboldened by the consumption of more alcohol, and I kicked one of them with my heel, and they left me alone after that.

At the end of the party, I apparently decided it was a good idea to go and try to flirt with Casey. (This, I know from watching his surveillance videos the next day, when I was mostly sober.) Now, an idea like this can only be explained away by the booze, because I don't know how to flirt when I'm sober, let alone smashed.

It went something like this. He was sitting on one of the planters that lined the courtyard, and I made my way over to him, cup still in hand. I finished it off, and tossed it to the ground, stepping closer to him, as close as I could get. I put my hands on his chest, and leaned very close to him to whisper in his ear,

"I think, you're the only one here who isn't interested in me. So, you know what that means?" I could see, though enhancing the video quality, that here, he gulped. "It means, I'm interested in you."

He stood up, and I stumbled. He caught me, and I steadied myself, before resuming my all important mission. He looked frozen in shock as I shimmied out of my dress, and stepped out of it, leaving it only a pile of black fabric at my feet. I was wearing lacy dark purple lingerie that matched my shoes. I reached out to place my palms against his chest again, but he seemed to snap back to reality, and stopped me by taking off his jacket and putting it over my shoulders. Then he led me inside, even picking up my dress.

In the video, I could hear several other guys complaining about "the scary guy" getting the hot chick. In reality, he led me to my room, pulled back my sheets, and practically shoved me away from him into my own bed. He took off the terribly high stilettos and pulled the sheets up over me. I was asleep before he left the room.

When I woke up, I remember thinking that the jacket was comfortable, and it smelled remarkably like… Casey. At which realization, I sat bolt upright and looked around. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized I was alone. I had a splitting headache, and promptly went back to sleep.

It is only now, after watching the cameras from last night, that I have realized I don't have the dress, which means that Casey still has it. I also realized, after much careful zooming and quality enhancement software, he was interested last night. He was _very_ interested. He was also nowhere to be found.

I left his jacket on the couch, and waited in my room, hoping he would come home, but he didn't until after I had given up and gone to sleep. The next morning, I was up and ready as usual, and when I met him in the kitchen for coffee, it was like nothing had happened.

"Thank you, for the other night. I'm so sorry, I didn't…"

"Don't apologize. You were drunk."

"That's why I'm apologizing. I'm supposed to be a protector here too." I wasn't actually going to apologize for coming on to him, not when I had seen how…_interested_… he really was.

"You should give up drinking," he said. I shrugged. Fat chance.

I met Sarah not much later, to open up the Orange Orange. As we were setting up, I could feel her looking at me. After almost half an hour, just before we were supposed to open, she finally spoke.

"Did you sleep with Casey on Halloween?"

"No!"

"I thought… everyone thought… You left. With him."

"I passed out five minutes later. I watched the surveillance videos."

"You didn't remember anything?"

"I remembered waking up wearing his jacket, and being scared out of my mind that we slept together. That's it."

"You stripped for him."

"Nothing he hasn't seen before," I replied.

"You can't sleep with him. He'll pretend like nothing changed, and as much as you want to deny it now, that will break your icy heart. Don't ruin the team, Gray," Sarah snapped.

Now I understood. She was angry because I had let my guard down. She thinks that makes me a bad spy. Now, it would, if I was actually a spy. But I'm not. I'm a missing FBI agent, hiding from the fallout of my last undercover op.

It was a long day, with Sarah angry. When at last I could leave, I practically ran out to my car. On the way back to the apartment, I wondered briefly if a snarky comment about Sarah knowing how team dynamics changed with sex was due to experience would have made me feel better. The reality is though, that it would probably have just made her angrier.

Casey was distant, after that. I had thought, after I had stated my opinion on love, which seemed to match his own so perfectly, that we were more on the same page. And we had been. But then, I had to get drunk and screw it up. Someday, I will look back and laugh at that. Someday when I am old and lonely, and am still unable to share what occurred while Skye was missing. But such is fate. I chose country over company, so that others could have their lives.

Time would repair my relationship with Casey. Once he realized, for the second, or was it third, time, that I was not going to pursue anything, despite what I might have said in some state of insanity. Time would fix things. Of course, it was only in the car and at the apartment that it mattered anyway. Unlike Walker and Bartowski, Casey and I were very good at pretending everything was normal.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Please review! **

Between Halloween and Thanksgiving, we had two missions. Neither one of them took place in California. The first mission went off without a hitch. It was the first one that I had full participation in. While I was not a trained spy, I was a trained field agent, and I was quickly learning by watching Sarah and Casey. Besides, the success rested on the use of guns, and I do guns.

The second mission was far more complex. It started off poorly, and ended poorly. The flight to New Mexico was bumpy and uncomfortable, as a storm was brewing. I was stuck between Casey and Chuck, and was forced to listen to Chuck and Sarah bickering across the aisle for the entire flight. I was trying to go over the plan one last time, since I would this time have a role to play. I was only a waitress, but it was a part to play in front of others. I had never been a waitress before.

Chuck and Sarah were supposed to be a couple at the club, and Casey was the bartender, as usual. As Chuck and Sarah mingled, they were supposed to be on the lookout for a certain smuggler whose people were in the process of smuggling several hundred thousand dollars worth of drugs into the country. The money was funding a suspected terrorist organization that, according to intel, was planning an attack on the United States.

Once the target was located, Sarah and Casey would do the dirty work, and I would locate Chuck and escort him out of the club, where we would bring the car around, and wait for Sarah and Casey. It seemed simple enough, but knowing Bartowski, he'd do something stupid and make the entire mission twice as complicated.

When we finally got off the airplane, Chuck and Sarah were in the middle of their argument, and Casey banished them to the back seat of our SUV, so theoretically they could argue quietly. It didn't quite work out that way. At least there was no awkwardly changing in the backseat required for this particular mission.

At the club, all was going well until Chuck located the target. Sarah alerted Casey and I, and I began to move through the masses of people to find Chuck so I could do my job. The mark was surrounded by his men.

Casey and Sarah communicated to me that they had lured the mark outside, and were about to engage. I dragged Chuck out of the club to the parking lot. However, when we got there, the plan fell apart. Our car was in plain view of the back of the club, so as we approached the SUV, Chuck could see how outnumbered Casey and Sarah were. Of course, his love struck brain only saw Sarah up against five much larger men.

Before I could stop him, he rushed in to help. He had the only tranquilizer gun we brought, and I couldn't very well justify actually shooting him. Besides, it would only send the mission farther into ruin. Instead, I pulled out my own gun and followed him, hoping that somehow I'd be able to prevent him from getting himself and the rest of us killed.

By the time Chuck got to the fight, Sarah and Casey had already knocked out two of the five. They didn't need our help. In fact, Chuck's arrival brought just the distraction the bad guys needed, and the key target used it as an escape. While he was waiting to flash, Chuck was shaking so hard that he dropped the tranq gun.

Since he was essentially useless, I took the tranq gun and tailed the target, raising the gun, aiming and pulling the trigger. I watched with satisfaction as the target fell to the ground. I returned to the group, where Sarah and Casey had neutralized the threat. Chuck, who had not flashed, was hiding behind the dumpster. Casey and Sarah cuffed and dragged our mark back to the edge of the parking lot, where I met them with the car.

Once the target was delivered to the waiting CIA agents, we made our check-in call with General Beckman, and began the drive to an airport slightly farther away that had a flight back to California that night. Chuck immaturely called shotgun, and Casey roughly removed him from the car and forced him into the back seat, leaving the front seat for me.

"Chuck, you need to get control of your emotions. You can't just run in every time it looks like I'm outmatched. When you're emotional, you don't flash," Sarah said.

"Look, Sarah, I'm not cut out for this. I didn't ask for this. I just want my life back."

"Listen, Bartowski. I didn't ask for this either. You don't see me complaining," I snapped. "See, I still have my eye on the prize. If I'm careful, I still get to go home at the end of the day. You can't have your life and Sarah. One or the other. You get greedy, you get dead."

He shut up after that. Everyone else did too.

When we got to the airport, we had about half an hour to get through security and get to our gate. The rush added to the list of things that had already gone wrong. To make matters worse, I was seated next to Chuck for the return flight. Once we were in the air, he started.

"If you didn't ask for this, how did you get roped in?" he asked.

"That's classified." It wasn't really, but an airplane was a stupid place to talk about things that could blow my cover and destroy my chances of having a normal life.

"Do you really get to go home?"

"The day ends on December 17, three years from now. If I'm not home by then, I'm dead and I never get to see my family and friends again. I meant what I said, Bartowski. One or the other. Don't get greedy."

After that, the questions stopped, and I pulled out a magazine.

The only positive thing about the disaster mission was that it somehow fixed things between Casey and me. I guess the whole "going home is the prize" thing shot any misconceptions about what I was looking for to pieces. It wasn't entirely as cold as it sounded. There would be people I would miss. He was one of them. But going home was still the prize. It would be the prize to the day Skye Green was declared dead.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Any reviews you'd like to leave will be greatly appreciated! Happy New Year! :)**

I spent the entire week leading up to Thanksgiving avoiding any contact at all with Ellie. I was certain that if I stopped to talk to her, she would invite me to dinner, and then I would have to go. I didn't want to spend Thanksgiving with people who had things to be thankful for. I was alive. But how could I say that? I was Meghan Gray, frozen yogurt girl, born and raised in California. Good girls aren't thankful to be alive. They're thankful for friends, and family, and nice things like that. Meghan can't be a Thanksgiving person.

Meghan has to be a Thanksgiving person. I let my guard down on Tuesday, returning to the parking lot to retrieve something from my car just before dinner time. Ellie was just getting in with her groceries. I was all set to return to the apartment and pretend I hadn't seen her, but she called out to me across the parking lot, and I couldn't very well ignore her.

"Hi Ellie, do you need help with those?" I asked, as she tried to balance several paper bags of groceries in her arms.

"Uhm, sure, that'd be great." She handed me a bag. "Thanks."

"No problem," I said, and I followed her to her apartment.

"I haven't seen you around all week, but I've been meaning to invite you and John to dinner on Thursday. You're coming, right?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," I said. I tried to sound enthusiastic. "What would you like me to bring?"

"How about a dessert, and if you don't mind, mashed potatoes."

"That's fine. I can do that," I said, glad that I'd been experimenting in the kitchen for the past few months.

"I was planning on dinner at two, so come over anytime," Ellie said as she unlocked the door.

"Okay, great," I said. I set the bag of groceries down and bolted, as politely as I could manage.

I crossed the courtyard quickly, and unlocked the door just as the timer went off telling me that the spaghetti was done cooking. I entered the kitchen and was surprised to see Casey draining the water out of my pasta and putting together the plates.

"Thanks," I said when he handed me mine. "I just stepped out for a minute or two, and got ambushed by Ellie." Casey grunted. We moved to the living room to eat.

"I've been avoiding her all week, hoping to escape an invite to Thanksgiving, but now we've been invited."

"We don't have to go," he said.

"I'm bringing a dessert and mashed potatoes, and if I have to go, you're coming with me," I said. He grunted.

I cleaned up the dinner dishes, and was standing in the kitchen holding my laptop, surfing the 'net for dessert recipes. I wasn't having much luck. I'd never made anything dessert-y before, since my cooking skills were limited to practical things, like dinner.

About fifteen minutes after I started looking, Casey came in to get a beer.

"Casey, god, you've got to help me!" I exclaimed. I was nearing full out panic mode, something that doesn't happen often. I don't do holidays anymore, for good reason. It's not acceptable to get drunk on Thanksgiving, and my strategy of avoiding people has failed miserably.

He gave me a look that clearly stated 'what's the national emergency?'

"Ellie asked me to bring dessert and potatoes."

"You said that."

"I can _do_ potatoes. I _can't_ do dessert. I don't know how to make desserts. I don't know what to make. I don't _do_ holidays." It was full out panic mode now.

He took the computer away before I could drop it.

"Pie. Apple pie. Anyone can make that."

"Apple pie?" I stammered. "I don't know how to make dessert."

"Go calm down. You can worry about it tomorrow," he said.

I went to my room and did the whole workout that was given to me for recovery. Casey was right. Pie couldn't be that hard. Anyone can make pie. It's as easy as, well, pie.

By the time I returned to the apartment after work the next day, the panic was setting in again. I had no idea how to make pie. Who was I kidding? This whole idea was crazy. Why did it matter so much if I looked like a normal person? Why couldn't I have said I had plans, and politely declined? It was too late for that now.

I let myself into the apartment and found, to my complete surprise, that in the kitchen, a printed recipe for apple pie sat on the counter, along with what appeared to be the ingredients. I walked over to the counter, not even stopping to set my bag down. I picked up the recipe and read through it, still in shock. It didn't look too hard. The directions were very detailed. I set the paper down, and looked through the ingredients. When I opened the refrigerator, I found the rest of them.

I walked down the hall to my room in a post panic haze. I changed out of my Orange Orange uniform, into shorts and a short sleeved blouse. I grabbed one of my black long sleeved button downs to cover my clothes, and made my way back to the kitchen. Once again, I couldn't help but stand still in shock. Obviously, the only person who could have done this was Casey. I guess I didn't realize that John Casey cared.

I put my hair up in a messy ponytail, and sadly acknowledged the fact that I would need to dye it again soon. I had gotten it professionally done about six weeks earlier, when I couldn't use my arm enough to do it myself. The auburn was growing out.

Shaking my head, I washed my hands, and pulled out a bowl to mix the dough for the crust in. I wiped down the counter, and read through the instructions once again before getting to work. I put the put the butter in the bowl, and microwaved it to soften it up, and then I added the salt and flour. In the process of measuring out two cups of flour, not only did I spill it all over the counter, but I got it all over my black shirt and my face. And then I heard the door opening, and realized that my gun was in my room, not on my person. I stayed very, very still and very, very quiet, and sincerely hoped that that was John Casey.

I heard the sound of keys landing on the floor in the living room, and a grunt, followed by a few choice curses. It was John. When I peeked out of the kitchen, I could see him in the living room. I brushed stray pieces of hair back behind my ear and let out a sigh of relief. I was not going to die today after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Enjoy the chapter! Thanks so much to those who left reviews! Keep 'em coming! I hope everyone has a great 2014! :)**

I returned to my pie crust, and managed to get two cups of flour into the bowl. I washed my hands again, and began to knead the dough, mixing in the water as directed. I was just finishing up mixing the dough when Casey came into the kitchen.

"I got Chinese. Figured you'd want a break."

"Yeah. Thanks," I said, turning to face him. He looked almost amused, and I looked down at myself, realizing how very much covered in flour I was.

"I told you I'm no good at this," I said.

"You'll be fine." He set down the plates he had taken out of the cabinet, and pulled out his phone. Before I realized what he was doing, he had taken a picture. I grabbed at the phone, but managed only to smear flour from my hands onto his Buy More shirt. He held the phone up out of my reach, and I quickly gave up, and put the dough in the refrigerator instead.

I washed the flour off my hands, and wet a paper towel to wash my face. I turned back around to face Casey.

"Did I get it all?"

"You missed some…" He reached out like he was going to touch my cheek, and then decided against it, and picked up the plates instead. I wiped at my cheek with the paper towel, and tossed it in the trash. I unbuttoned the black shirt and tossed it onto a nearby section of counter, and then joined Casey in the living room.

I scooped myself some of my favorite dishes, and began to eat, in silence once again. When I finished, I set my plate on the coffee table, but didn't move to get up.

"I don't… I don't like to rely on people. I don't trust easily, and I don't remember how to _interact_ as friends. I.. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I trust you. And I want to thank you for helping me, because I know you don't have to. I really do appreciate it." I glanced over at him. He was staring at his empty plate, and when I finished, he grunted in acknowledgement. John Casey doesn't do feelings.

I stood up, and took the plate out of his hands, bringing it and my own out to the kitchen to put in the sink with my pie making dishes. I left him to clean up the leftovers, and I donned my black shirt again, hoping for better luck with the second half of my pie making adventure.

I cleaned up the counter and wiped up most of the flour, although, my bare feet told me that I had missed some on the floor. I took the pie dish and retrieved the dough from the refrigerator, and began the chore that was rolling it out. I had broken the ball of dough in half, and was struggling with it under the rolling pin, because it was so cold, it didn't seem to want to do anything, and the counters were too high, taking away most of my leverage. I sighed in frustration just as Casey came in to put away the leftover food. He nudged me out of the way, and took the rolling pin from my hands. His taller, stronger body had no problem rolling out the dough, and he placed it carefully in the pie dish.

"Thanks John," I said. He stiffened again, and before he had even turned to leave, his posture was back to military perfection. It wasn't until I was halfway through peeling the necessary apples that I realized why. John. When had he become John?

I cut up my apples, and mixed in brown and white sugar, cinnamon, lemon juice, nutmeg and salt, and sampled a tiny slice of apple. It was pretty good. I poured it into the pie dish on top of the crust, and put the sugary bowl in the sink.

Faced again with the challenge of rolling hard as a rock dough, I picked up the rolling pin, and decided against the struggle. I checked the living room, and he wasn't there, so I wandered down the hall and knocked on the door to the one room in the apartment I had never seen.

"Casey?" He opened the door. "Would you mind?" I asked. He held out a hand for the rolling pin, and followed me back to the kitchen. I turned the oven on to preheat, and hopped up on the counter next to the sink so I could watch John finish the pie top.

I sighed sadly. As if Thanksgiving on its own wasn't hard enough. John looked up from the pie crust with his 'what's wrong' look. I sighed again.

"When we were little, my brother Harper always called the top crust the pie top. Every year at Thanksgiving he would ask if the pies would have pie tops. I just thought of that… and I miss him so much." I could feel the tears falling. So much for not crying over things I can't have.

"He should graduate from law school this May, and the last time I saw him, he had just submitted an application to Harvard. I don't even know if he went." Casey reached over so his hand covered mine.

"Meghan, you can get through this. You can get through tomorrow."

I nodded, slowly, and he passed me another paper towel. I wiped away the tears and watched as John finished up the pie. He put it in the oven and set the timer, and I slid off the counter and started to do the dishes.

It was still pretty early when I finished, and I was about to go sit down in the living room and maybe watch TV, when the doorbell rang. Casey answered it, and the next thing I knew, Ellie was in our living room.

"Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had any flour. Devon forgot to buy it and all the stores are closed."

"There might be some left," John said, looking at me.

"John Casey, I will have you know that there is plenty of flour left," I snapped. "I'll get it," I said to Ellie.

She followed me to the kitchen.

"It smells really good in here," she said.

"Uh, thanks. Here's the flour." She took the bag from me, and I was about to return to the living room, when she stopped me.

"You seem… upset. Is everything okay with you and John?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"I know you said you guys weren't…" I cut her off.

"We're not."

I followed Ellie out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

"Well, see you tomorrow. Thanks for the flour," she said, opening the door.

"Goodnight," I said. Casey grunted.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Here's another chapter folks! I apologize in advance for its shortness, but I can promise another, longer, chapter tomorrow, thanks to my lovely extended vacation due to snow. Hope you enjoy!**

I sat down on my end of the couch and flipped the TV on. I surfed through all the channels, quickly skipping the ones playing Charlie Brown. I finally settled on a documentary about revolutionary war guns. I remember about five minutes of it, and then waking up to Casey's hand on my shoulder, and him telling me to wake up. The eleven o'clock news was on now, and as I sat up, I heard a name I never wanted to hear again. William Jamison, the newscaster had said, had she not?

"Wait, Casey, replay that." He gave me his 'what the hell' grunt, but did as I requested.

"William Jamison, one of several DC Metro police officers involved in a drug and human trafficking ring has been formally charged with those crimes, and will plead not guilty. For the full story, see our website…"

"Can I borrow your laptop?"

Again, I received the 'what the hell?' grunt, this time accompanied by a puzzled look, but he handed the laptop over.

I located the article on the website almost immediately. Hesitating for only a few seconds, I pressed play and began the video.

"Several months ago, a drug and human trafficking ring was uncovered in the DC Metro police department. Special Agent Grace Tarpin of the FBI was undercover as a detective with the department, and was a crucial player in the exposure of this criminal activity. Tarpin, 35, took a stray bullet to the abdomen, and was killed in the raid where the officers involved were captured." Here, they showed my picture, just in case Casey hadn't yet figured out that this was my op. Grace Tarpin was a blond, with blue eyes. There were other differences too, that I faithfully made with make-up, every day for three years.

"Of the seven officers involved, William Jamison is the only one pleading not guilty. His trial will begin in mid January. The Deputy Director of the FBI remarked in an interview that, "Grace Tarpin was an excellent agent. We miss her talent here, at headquarters, and on the streets. Her work was instrumental exposure of this ring of crime, and she gave the ultimate sacrifice for her country and its people. We thank you, Agent Tarpin, for your life." For full coverage of the Jamison trial, tune in with us as…"

I stopped the video. Two months from now, this could all be over. The day could be over, and I could go home. I found myself crying, again. Casey took the laptop and set it on the coffee table.

"You were a blond," he said.

"And a dumb one at that. It'll be a year, they said. It'll be a sure-fire path to a promotion. And I believed them." No matter what I tried, the tears kept coming. I felt Casey's hand on my arm, and the next thing I knew, I was sobbing into his shoulder. His hand made its way around me to rest on my back. I don't know how long we sat there, but when the tears finally dried, I couldn't help but feel safe.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse from crying. "I'm going to go to bed." I stood up, and as I was leaving the living room, I heard him say,

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, John."

When I was finally in my bed, a new set of tears made themselves known. I had felt so safe, so protected, in Casey's arms just now. I was not supposed to feel. This wasn't the time, this wasn't the place. The prize, now even in sight, was home. I couldn't afford to get greedy. But he was so warm. I haven't been that close to a warm body in a great many months. Casey was warm, and safe, and, comfortable. But I don't believe in love.

It was not the first time, and certainly not the last time that I cried myself to sleep.

When I awoke on Thanksgiving morning, it was to the smell of good coffee and far too much sunlight for my taste. Showered and dressed for Thanksgiving dinner at the Bartowskis' I wandered into the kitchen with my black flour covered shirt. I helped myself to coffee, and began the mashed potatoes. I set up peeling potatoes, once again sitting on the counter near the sink. It was relaxing in the way that mindless labor could be, until I dropped the potato peeler and it landed with a crash on the floor in the otherwise silent apartment. I slid off the counter to get it, and when I looked up, Casey was in the doorway, gun in hand.

"I didn't expect to see you for a few more hours," he said. I shrugged.

"You can't save the world by hiding from it."

I went back to peeling potatoes, and jumped when I heard a cabinet door close. Casey walked over to the sink and filled a pot part way with water, and put it on the stove to heat up. He cut the potatoes I had peeled in half, and was about to dump them into the pot when I stopped him.

"Wait," I said, taking a potato half. It was about four feet from where I sat to the stove. I tossed, and missed, but not by much, so I took a second, and that landed in the pot. Casey snorted, but he set the cutting board back on the counter, and picked up a piece of potato. By the time all the potatoes made it into the pot, we were both laughing. As I cleaned up and waited for the potatoes to finish cooking, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this year the holidays wouldn't be quite as bad.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay, so much for longer... but this just seemed like an appropriate place to stop. The daily updates shall continue, never fear. Vacation is now until Sunday, so I'm hoping to churn out several more chapters before the dreaded return to school and working.**

A few hours later, pie and mashed potatoes in hand, we walked across the courtyard to Ellie's apartment. Chuck opened the door, and took the potatoes from Casey, who he then dragged into the living room to watch something on TV with Awesome and the other guys and Sarah. I made my way to the kitchen with the pie, to see if Ellie needed any help, and hopefully avoid as many people as possible.

Ellie had almost everything done already, so I wound up pouring drinks and putting food on the table. She had labeled each place with a fancy scripted card with each person's name. I noticed that I was next to John.

They, apparently, were the kind of people who shared what they were thankful for before the meal. Awesome started, and his list began with Ellie and ended with adrenaline rushes, and then Morgan went, and then Chuck and Sarah, and then it was my turn.

"Uh, I'm thankful for… waking up to the sunrise, and my friends, Chuck and Sarah and_ John,_ and I'm thankful to go home at the end of the day." I was worried that it was a bit too honest, but my fears were dismissed when Devon said,

"Wow, that's deep. Awesome." Then it was Casey's turn.

"I'm thankful for the second amendment." Today, it was my turn to snort. "And alcohol and cell phones," he finished. I didn't miss the implications of the alcohol or the cell phone, and I kicked him under the table. Ellie smiled, Sarah shook her head, and the others just looked confused. Then it was Ellie's turn, and we began to eat.

The food was delicious, and when we were done eating, I followed Ellie into the kitchen to help with the dishes, because the faster we cleaned up the main meal, the faster we could have dessert, and the faster I could leave.

"I'll do the dishes, Ellie. The meal was excellent."

"Oh, thank you. You don't have to help, though."

"No, I insist," I said. She sighed in defeat. I filled the sink with soapy water, and began washing dishes. Not even ten minutes later, an irate John Casey came into the kitchen. I turned away from the sink to face him.

"The guys boring you with video game speak?"

"Yes," he snarled. I threw a dish towel at him, and he crossed the kitchen to dry dishes beside me. I didn't miss the smirk that crossed Ellie's face as I turned back to the sink to finish the dishes. She chattered on as she finished putting away the dinner leftovers, and I commented in the appropriate places. John remained silent.

"John and I can finish up from here," Ellie said while I let the water out of the sink. "Go visit with Sarah and the others."

I glanced up at John, and he gave me the 'you can do it' look. I turned back to Ellie and nodded. I had barely left the room when I heard her start to speak, and I stopped to listen.

"What's going on between you and Meghan?" she asked. I couldn't hear Casey's reply over the clinking of dishes.

"That's what she said, but I saw you guys on Halloween. I saw you leave _together_."

"It's nothing."

"You mean to tell me that you just live together? That you're…"

"Just friends," he said, and there were more dishes clinking, and then heavy footsteps. I rushed out into the living room to avoid being caught eavesdropping. He said we were friends!

In the living room, Chuck and Morgan were telling stories, which thankfully meant that I didn't have to engage in small talk. Ellie and John came in a little while later, and we listened to Chuck and Morgan's stories (increasing in elaborate-ness the longer they continued, in Morgan's case) for a few more minutes, before Ellie got up to put dessert on the table.

Where dinner had been sit down and formal, dessert was quite casual and buffet style. There was pecan pie, in addition to my apple, and chocolates, and cookies.

"Your pie is delicious, Meghan," Ellie said.

"Thanks. It wasn't all me though, John helped."

"Wait, wait, wait," Morgan said, stopping to join in the conversation, as he had been walking by. "Did you just say that _scary_ John Casey makes _pie_."

"Yeah," I said, watching as Morgan shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth.

"It's really good," he said.

"Thanks," I said, smiling.

All in all, Thanksgiving wasn't bad. Everyone said the pie was good, which made me feel, if only for a little while, pretty good about myself and my situation. I may be nearly three-thousand miles from home, but at least I can make good pie. There was about an hour of talking after dessert, and then I announced that I was tired, and made my leave.

As soon as I closed the door to our apartment behind me, I sighed in relief. It was over. Thanksgiving was over, and with any luck, next year I would be home, and all would be well. I had never realized how important just being able to talk to family was.

When I was a patrol cop, I worked holidays so cops with husbands and wives and kids could be at home with their families. But on all those days, I started or ended with a call or visit home. Every one of those years, I _could_ talk to anyone I wanted to. I didn't realize how important that was to me until it was too late and Skye was missing.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Many thanks to all who are reading this, and please enjoy! **

I woke up at three in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the apartment. I grabbed a gun, and silently made my way to the hall, listening to see where the noise was coming from. I made my way to the kitchen, gun ready, and raised it as I stepped into the room. I lowered it again when I realized that it was just John, making coffee. Black Friday. Of course. I didn't have to be at the Orange Orange until seven, so I'd kind of forgotten that John would have to go earlier. He turned around.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine. I'm going back to bed," I said, and I returned to my warm blankets in hopes of catching two more hours of rest.

I arrived at Orange Orange fifteen minutes before seven, and was lucky enough to find a parking space in the packed lot. I sighed, as I set up for a busy day at the frozen yogurt shop. Sure enough, there was a slow but steady stream of customers looking to get a deal on food before they continued their shopping. Sarah arrived to begin her shift at noon, and it was mid-afternoon before I got a chance to take a break.

I wandered outside, and made my way to the Starbucks on the other side of the parking lot. I bought two black coffees and headed for the Buy More. The store was packed, and it took several minutes of wandering before I even caught sight of Casey. I finally spotted him near the refrigerators, and I headed quickly in that direction, hoping to intercept him before he was occupied with another customer.

"Hi John," I said. "I brought coffee. Figured you'd need it."

"Thanks," he said, taking the cup I held out to him.

"I think you're due for a break," I said, and he grunted, but led the way to the break room, which was very quiet compared to the store.

"Something up?" he asked, sitting down at one of the tables.

"Nope. I just thought I'd bring you some coffee. It's been a long day… and… I know how much you hate this job. And honestly, if I have to serve any more yogurt today…" I trailed off, not able to think of an appropriate way to express my frustration. He set his coffee down and laid his arm on the table.

"What happened?" I asked, looking at a nasty red scratch that certainly hadn't been there this morning.

"Nothing," he muttered. I reached across the table and took his hand, flipping it palm up so I could get a better look at the scratch that crossed his forearm.

"No, really. What happened? That looks nasty."

"Big John got in a fight with a refrigerator box," Lester said, leering at me from the doorway. Jeff was behind him. I felt my soul freeze a tiny bit more as I realized that I had just called the creepy Buy More guys by their proper names, _in my head_.

"It threw a couple of good punches before I put it in its place," John snarled.

"It was kinda hot," Jeff said.

"Jeffrey…" Lester warned.

"Sorry to interrupt your little love fest with the hot yogurt girl, John," Lester said, and he pulled a still leering Jeff out of the break room.

I let go of John's hand and crossed the room to retrieve the first aid kit. He snatched it out of my hands as soon as I got close to him.

"Let me do it, John."

"I can do it myself."

"John, please," I said, and I took the first aid kit out of his hand, and began to dab at the scrape with an antiseptic wipe. As I worked, I could see the long day catching up to him. Playing the quiet, if aggressive, salesman for so long, on such a busy day, could take a toll on anyone.

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" I asked. He grunted.

"Don't bother putting anything on this," he said, gesturing to his arm. I opened my mouth to argue, but saw his expression and closed it again.

"We've got company," I said. He looked over his shoulder to see Chuck and Morgan by the door.

"Hope we're not interrupting anything, Meghan, Casey," Chuck said.

"No, no, I just came over to drop off some coffee on my break," I said, standing up.

"Nice to finally see you again, Meghan. It's been a while. Say, after our shift, Chuck and I were going to rewatch all the Star Wars movies. You should come…" Morgan said, but he was interrupted by Chuck.

"I don't think that's…"

"You don't mind, right Chuck? You can invite Sarah too." Morgan sounded far too hopeful. I recalled, vaguely, that he was the flirty salesman from my first day here, and while I had seen him around (it was hard not to) I had mostly managed to avoid any one on one conversation.

"Sorry boys, but I'll have to pass. I've got some stuff to do around the apartment tonight. Speaking of, my break's almost over. Chicken parmesan sound okay for dinner, John?" Morgan looked quite sad, in a pathetic puppy dog sort of way, and Chuck looked relieved. Casey grunted.

"Shift ends at six," he said.

"Gottcha. Dinner will be ready by 6:30," I said. "See you boys around." I raised my hand to Chuck and Morgan as I left, and made my way, as slowly as possible, back to the Orange Orange, to put in another hour or so of yogurt serving before heading home. As I left the store, I could feel the creepy duo watching my every move.

Returning to the Orange Orange was almost a relief, because there weren't (for the moment) any guys who felt that they could stare in a creepy fashion just because I'm hot. However, as soon as a group of customers arrived, I recalled why nothing about the Orange Orange could possibly be a relief.

"So," Sarah started during a lull. "Anything new at the Buy More?" At my confused expression, she explained. "I saw you head over there for your break."

"Oh, I just figured I'd check in," I said. "Chuck's fine. The creepy duo is still creeping. Morgan is still trying to flirt with me. The usual." Sarah nodded.

"I'm gonna head out. See ya," I said, grabbing my stuff. The world outside the Orange Orange was a fantastic place. I reached a new high on excessive speed use on the way back to the apartment, where I changed out of the repulsive orange shirt and short skirt, and began prepping dinner.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Here's another chapter. I'm back to school and that means work... so I will try to update as often as possible, maybe every other day? I think that sounds reasonable-ish. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review! :)**

I was just pulling the chicken out of the oven when John came in. He slammed the door, and stalked down the hall to his room, where I heard the tell-tale sounds of anger, namely, his fist hitting something hard. The timer rang, startling me, and I shut the stove off and drained the water out of the pasta.

I had just assembled the two plates when John appeared. He grabbed two glasses and a bottle of scotch, and headed for the living room. I followed with food.

"That bad, huh?" I asked. He grunted, and handed me a glass of scotch. I handed him his plate. I could tell something was bothering him, something that wasn't the scratch on his arm, but I stayed silent as we ate.

I had just gotten up to take my plate to the kitchen and clean up, when the doorbell rang. I opened it, and there stood Morgan.

"Hi, Meghan. Chuck ditched Star Wars night to hang out with Sarah, so I thought, maybe you and I could grab a cup of coffee or something?"

"Sorry, Morgan. I'm busy," I said, glancing back into the apartment. I could see Casey sitting on the couch, nursing his nearly empty glass of scotch and watching with interest.

"Oh," he said, and his face fell. He turned away, and muttered,

"I guess Jeff and Lester were right." I stepped out of the apartment.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing," Morgan said. He was a pretty bad liar.

"Morgan, what were Jeff and Lester right about?" I asked, backing him up until he was trapped between me and a planter. He was practically shaking as he answered,

"They said you and Casey were, uh, you know, _doing it, _in the break room."

"Morgan, what kind of person do you think I am?" I asked, hoping that I looked as horrified as I felt. In the break room? Seriously? I'm not a teenager.

"What kind of person do you think Casey is? Can you honestly think that John Casey would risk getting caught fornicating in the break room?"

"No, nonono, yes. Well, there was that one time…"

"What 'one time'?"

"Awesome and Ellie were talking about it while I was spying on them."

"Morgan…" I warned.

"He got arrested for indecent exposure, drunken misconduct, among other things, so yeah, I wouldn't exactly call it that much of a stretch," Morgan said. I shook my head. That couldn't be true.

"Everything good out here, Gray?" Casey asked.

"Yep. All good," I said, stepping away from Morgan with a frighteningly cheery smile on my face. I returned to the apartment, and stood behind the closed door, glaring at Casey.

"What's this about an arrest?" I asked. John looked confused. "Come on, Casey. Indecent exposure? Drunken misconduct? Ring any bells?"

He exclaimed, "No!" and then growled, "Bartowski." I shrugged.

"I don't know. All I know is that your creepy coworkers seem to think we're doing it in the break room," I snapped.

"Huh?"

"I don't know, Casey. _Someone _must have given them that idea." He turned to walk away, muttering under his breath as he went,

"Better you than Bartowski."

"What was that? Because I swear you just said 'better you than Bartowski.'" Casey whirled back around, and took one menacing step towards me.

"Watch your mouth, Gray," he snarled.

"And if I don't?"

"You'll regret it." We glared at one another for a few moments before I brushed past him and went to do the dishes.

As I rinsed dish after dish in scalding hot water, my mind wandered to the conversation with Morgan that turned into an argument with Casey. I sighed as I set the last pan into the drying rack. It was a stupid argument, over a stupid little thing. I drained the sink, filled a glass of water, which I drank, slowly, and then I made my way to the living room to apologize for my outrageous behavior. However, Casey was simultaneously talking to General Beckman via video and talking to Sarah on the phone.

"Ah, Agent Gray. Excellent timing," the General said as I stepped into view of the video feed. Casey ended the call with Sarah, and turned his attention completely to the General.

"We have a situation. Thanks to NSA surveillance, we have located the GPS coordinates for an underground bunker housing a group of Ukrainian terrorists. We've had the group, CS-55 on our radar for several years now, and it seems they have captured CIA Officer Martin Flemming. The mission will be to get Flemming and get out, taking out as many terrorists as you can in the process. Your full briefing will take place tomorrow morning, and in the meantime, prepare to depart."

"Where to, General?" I asked.

"The coordinates show the location to be inside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. You fly out of LAX tomorrow at 14:30 with Walker and Bartowski."

I nodded, and Casey grunted. General Beckman ended the call.

Casey left the room immediately, and I heard him stalk down the hall to his bedroom. I made my way to mine, and began to pack black mission clothes into a suitcase. I packed seven days worth, and grabbed my travel bag of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a hair brush, ponytail holders and a razor. The suitcase was still barely even half full.

"Casey?" I called out, stepping out of my room. I knew I needed to apologize for my behavior, but I also knew that he was prepping for a mission, and therefore wouldn't listen. Hopefully I would get through to him before we left.

"What's the policy with the gear and weapons?"

"We ship most of it," he said. I nodded.

I returned to my room, and gathered my heavy boots, and bullet proof vest, and put them near the suitcase. I heard Casey return to the living room, and, as I was done packing until we got further details from the General, I went out to sit on the couch and stare at the TV. Casey appeared to be monitoring Chuck's apartment. I waited a few minutes before speaking.

"Casey—John, look, I'm really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have flipped out at you." He grunted. I still wanted to know what it was he meant by 'better you than Bartowski,' but I wasn't sure this was a good time to ask. I sighed. For the next week or two, there wasn't going to be a time to ask at all.

"What did you mean, though, when you said 'better you than Bartowski'?" I asked. He didn't answer at first, and I was starting to wonder if I had asked the question out loud at all.

"There were… rumors. I dragged the kid out of the store enough for briefings," he said. Oh. OH.

"Those idiots actually thought… I find that hard to believe. A man like you… doesn't seem the type," I finished quickly, aware of the implications. Again, he was silent, and then finally,

"Thanks." Good, he took it as a compliment. He went back to stalking the happenings at the Chuck's apartment, and I sat in silence.

"Have you ever been to Ukraine before?" I asked.

"No."

"I did a project on Chernobyl in high school. I've always wanted to go there."

"It's not an all expenses paid vacation."

"I know. But it's probably the closest I'll ever get." Casey grunted. "Again, I'm really sorry about earlier."

He grunted again.

"Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Meghan."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry it took so long... I went to update and something was up with FFN, and then I sort of spaced checking back... but here's the chapter! Hope you enjoy!**

**Edit: 1.12.14**

1The next morning, I woke up and got dressed in normal clothes, and did normal things, like getting breakfast and drinking coffee, until it was time to head in to Castle. Casey, Bartowski and I all took one car. We accessed the base through the Orange Orange, as it was too early to avoid suspicion going through the Buy More.

"Good morning, Team. Your mission is time-sensitive. You fly from LAX to Kiev, and a CIA contact will meet you at the airport. You will be introduced to several Ukrainians who will be able to help you with equipment, but as far as getting in and out of the compound in the Zone, you're on your own. We're shipping snow gear, weapons, ammunition and communication equipment to the CIA contact in Kiev today, and it should arrive shortly after you."

"General, the Zone still has radiation hot spots that are incredibly dangerous. How will we avoid these?" I asked.

"The intersect has a full map of these hot spots, and using radiation detection equipment, you should be able to get to the compound without excessive radiation exposure." I nodded.

"Ehem. You said radiation? That sounds dangerous," Chuck said.

"Mr. Bartowski, all the more reason to get in and get out. Unless anyone's pregnant, you should be fine." Sarah and I both shook our heads.

"How will we be traveling to the compound?" Sarah asked.

"Two snowmobiles will be provided. Tomorrow afternoon, we have arranged for the four of you to take a tour of Chernobyl, so you can get a feel for the territory, and learn how to spot areas with spiking radiation. After that, the timing is up to you. Remember people, there's a missing Officer in all this."

"General, what am I supposed to tell my sister?" Chuck asked. It was a good question. Ellie and Awesome, and Big Mike and Morgan were bound to notice when the four of us disappeared for at least a week at the beginning of December.

"Agent Gray's sister lives in Kiev. She will be getting married soon, and has invited her sister to visit. Colonel Casey will be Agent Gray's guest. Agent Walker is the groom's cousin. Bartowski is Walker's date."

"You have a sister?" Chuck asked. I stared at him.

"Yes," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Easy on the sarcasm there. You might turn into Casey," Chuck said. I laughed.

"Good luck team," General Beckman said, and she ended the call.

With that, we left Castle, and Chuck and Casey headed to the Buy More to get last minute time off. After locking up the Orange Orange, Sarah drove me back to the apartment.

"So, Sarah, does the gear getting shipped include vests and boots? Or do we bring those?" I asked in the car.

"We bring those. Our luggage gets tagged as government property, so we have special paperwork to bring guns. The vests and boots and everything are all set as long as you have one suitcase and it's a checked bag."

"Got it. Thanks. This is my first international mission, so I wasn't really sure." Sarah nodded.

When we arrived at the apartment complex, I had just gotten out of the car and Sarah was about to leave to go finish her own packing, when we saw Ellie walking out to the parking lot. Sarah got out of the car. I raised my eyebrows.

"Chuck sucks at lying," Sarah mouthed. I nodded. Got it.

"Hi, Sarah, Meghan. I didn't expect to see you two here."

"Hi Ellie," Sarah said.

"We're actually just leaving. My sister invited me and a guest to visit her in Ukraine before her wedding, so Casey and I are leaving this afternoon," I said.

"I thought you guys weren't…"

"We're not. He needs a vacation," I said. Ellie nodded, like she agreed.

"And, actually, I have exciting news too," Sarah said. "My cousin, he's studying the effects of radiation on the environment, and while he was in Ukraine, he met Meghan's sister, so I've been invited too. His letter got lost in the mail, and I only just got the invitation late last night. I'm supposed to bring a guest too, so I asked Chuck."

"Wow. Ukraine… what are the odds?" Ellie sounded pretty shocked.

"Small world, right?" Sarah said. I laughed.

"Wow, this is incredible. How long will you guys be gone?"

"About a week, maybe a little longer," Sarah said.

"Well, have fun! I can't believe Chuck didn't say anything last night," Ellie said.

"It was really late," Sarah said. "I'm sure he didn't want to wake you up."

"I'm going to go finish packing," I said, excusing myself from the conversation.

"Have a safe trip!" Ellie said.

"Thanks!"

I unlocked the door to the apartment, and went to my room. It was already ten, and we would need to leave by eleven thirty at the latest. I was sure Casey would be pushing for eleven, so I rushed through packing my boots and my vest, and a few extra pairs of socks and changes of undergarments, just for good measure. I located my passport and credit card, and packed them into a bag with a new book to bring on the flight. Then I brought my suitcase out to the living room, and left it with my carry on, while grabbing my keys and practically running out of the apartment. Since I was going to be out of the country for an undetermined amount of time, there was something that needed to get done, first.

It was a short drive, as I had already visited once, and knew where I was going. I sped into a parking space, perhaps a bit too quickly, and jumped out of the car. In the office, I was asked my name, and for identification. I handed over my driver's license.

"Meghan Gray," Mrs. McArthur said, reading my name from my license.

"Yes, ma'am. I visited a few weeks ago."

"I have a folder with the information you requested."

"Excellent, thank you."

"I believe it is I who should be thanking you," Mrs. McArthur said. I smiled.

As soon as I was out of the office, clutching the envelope, I nearly ran back to my car, and stepped on the accelerator, fully utilizing sixth gear as I sped back to the apartment, arriving at eleven fifteen.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I forgot how hard work and school are. Uhg. This is one of those weeks where my stress level is about at 12 on a scale of 1 to 10. Maybe another chapter later in the week? I hope so.**

Casey was just hauling his luggage out to the Crown Victoria, so I didn't feel bad about being late. I dragged my suitcase out too, and stowed my yellow manila envelope into my carryon bag.

"Bartowski," Casey hollered, and that finally brought Chuck scrambling into the parking lot. He got to ride in the back seat with his suitcase.

There was only a minor violation of traffic laws on the way to the airport, and by that, I mean Casey only hit about twenty over the speed limit. In the parking lot, we pulled into a space next to Sarah's Porsche, and began unloading our suitcases.

We printed our tickets, and got in line to check our bags. No one said anything. When we finally got up to the front of the line, Casey went through the process of printing our luggage tags, since he was the senior agent on the team. We each had to show a government ID to get our bags through. When it was my turn, I pulled my CIA consultant badge out of my purse. It wasn't often that I needed it.

Then we headed straight for the nearest security checkpoint, where again, there was a line to wait in. This was my first international mission. Hell, this was my first international trip. As we approached the security checkpoint, I pulled out my passport and boarding pass.

I handed both to the TSA officer when he asked, and he studied them for a few moments before handing them back. I followed Casey and put my bag in a bin, along with my shoes. I winced as my sock-clad feet touched the floor.

"Geez the floor's cold," I said. Casey grunted. I was relieved when, on the other side of the metal detector, I was able to put my Converse back on. We made our way to the gate, and sat around waiting to board. After a few minutes of Chuck and Sarah talking, Casey disappeared, and I pulled one of the books out of my bag. I scanned the cover, for the first time in a year, but the fourth time over all. _Three Little Words _by Ashley Rhodes-Courter. I didn't start to read, because it's the kind of book that I read all at once. It's easier that way. Instead, I put it back in my bag and pulled out the yellow manila envelope. I opened it, and counted the pieces of paper. There were thirty.

John sat down next to me, holding two coffees, and I put the envelope away. He handed me a cup.

"Thanks," I said.

By the time I had finished the coffee and thrown it away, our flight was boarding. I took my seat between John and a stranger, and pulled out _Three Little Words_. I began to read, and was lost in the story until dinner was served, interrupted only by the flight attendants passing out arrival cards, which I had filled out to save time later.

"Good book?" the stranger beside me asked.

"Yes, very. I read it every year, before Christmas, and every year, it…" speaks to me, teaches me, "reminds me to feel." The man smiled, and I looked away. Casey was watching me with interest. I knew that as soon as we landed, or perhaps when the mission was over, he would look up the book to find out what it was about, and what drew me to it year after year.

When I finished my dinner, I returned to the book. Since I had read it three times before, it was a quick read. Two and a half hours into the flight, I was done. I didn't even realize what was happening, until a flight attendant who was walking by stopped and asked if I was okay. As I replied, saying of course, I was fine, I realized I was crying. I had never cried after reading this book before. The previous three times, I had felt only cold emptiness, which fueled my need to do _something_ and sparked the passion I felt for helping people, that same passion which had first led me to the police academy, several lifetimes ago.

I looked down at the back cover of the book in my lap, and let the tears fall in silence. I read this book to remind myself why I do my job, and why I'm willing to give up everything. I read this book to feel. What does it say about who I've become, when I'm afraid of the feelings that surface?

John looked away from the window just a few moments after I had told the flight attendant I was fine. I was still staring at the book, when I felt a large hand on mine. I looked up at him.

"You okay?"

"Just thinking," I replied, telling myself that his concern was only because if I was out of touch with my focus, it was a liability. He removed his hand from mine when I reached for my bag, to replace the book with the envelope, but he didn't look away. I pulled the stack of papers out of the envelope, and began to decipher the handwriting. John looked away when I pulled the papers out, politely not reading over my shoulder, although I suspect he got a glimpse of what they contained.

I got through about half of them before I decided to get some rest. I put the envelope back in my bag, and got up to use the bathroom and wipe the dried tears from my face. When I was back in my seat, I leaned back and closed my eyes, hoping I would be able to fall asleep.

My mind didn't seem to want to shut off, but when I opened my eyes again, the lights on the plane had been turned down, and many passengers appeared to be resting as well. I shivered, and pulled the sleeves of my sweater down over my hands. I chanced a peek at John, and guessed that he might be asleep. I wished I had packed a pillow or a blanket in my bag. After a few more minutes of looking around, and finding nothing to entertain myself with, I closed my eyes again, and leaned over slightly so I could rest my head on Casey's shoulder.

**A/N: If you're looking for a really good book, I highly recommend _Three Little Words_.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Oh my gosh... So sorry about the major delay with this chapter! I have my excellently prepared excuse, which you won't care about, so I might as well go with the truth. My schedule is a tad bit hectic right now. However, if I can write a two chapter transition, that will bring me to a large chunk of story that I've already written! So, hope with me that that gets done so more chapters can be posted! I appreciate your patience, and would greatly appreciate any feedback. :)**

**Since it's been a while... Here are a few things you might need to know, or maybe you just forgot.**

**(Chuck, Sarah, Casey and Meghan are flying to Kiev, Ukraine, to rescue a CIA agent from terrorists. Oh yeah, and Meghan fell asleep using Casey as a pillow.)**

When I awoke, about six hours later for breakfast, not only was my head on Casey's shoulder, but my right hand was entwined with his. I sat up, kind of hoping he was still asleep, but I didn't move my hand. When he looked over at me, not ten seconds later, my hope was trampled. He didn't say anything, and neither did I. When our breakfasts arrived, I realized that our hands were still… and he let go. I ate quickly, and when the tray had been taken away, I closed my eyes again, hoping for another hour of rest before we landed in Amsterdam.

Once off the plane, we headed for the bathrooms and then the luggage carousel. After we got our bags, it was off to customs, which involved another line, although it wasn't as long as the security lines had been at LAX. Still, it took about forty-five minutes to get through, and I was glad we had the four hour layover, and therefore didn't have to rush. Then it was back through security, (the floors were cold here too) and to yet another terminal to wait the remaining two and a half hours. We sat at a tiny table with four chairs.

After surveying the terminal for a few minutes, Sarah sighed, and Chuck rubbed at his eyes.

"I wonder what we'll be seeing on the tour," Chuck said.

"Other than numbers on the Geiger counter and flashes?" Casey said.

"Oh, I expect we'll see the Red Forest, some of the vehicles used, the sarcophagus, the reactor, a few abandoned villages, Pripyat," I said.

"Sounds pretty cool," Chuck said. It would be cool. Just… creepy. Very creepy.

"You seem to know your stuff. College paper?" Sarah asked.

"High school," I replied. I didn't go to college. Sarah and Chuck looked interested, and we had another two hours to kill.

"We had to do this massive paper in history, about an historical turning point. I researched the accident for months, and came up with all this fascinating information. As it turned out, I wrote my paper more on the collapse of the Soviet Union than on Chernobyl," but hey, all those facts are suddenly relevant again.

I talked for just under an hour, explaining what the likely causes of the accident were, and the effects, and the government's role in the aftermath. Chuck seemed pretty interested, and so did Sarah. Casey spent the entire time surveying the terminal, but I kind of get the idea that even he was listening with some interest.

Then, since there was only about an hour left until our flight left, Sarah and I headed for the bathrooms and to buy lunch. When we returned to the table, Chuck and Casey were glaring at each other. Chuck was the first to look away, and they both got up to find something to eat. I had some sort of pasta salad, which was pretty good. We had just finished lunch when they were calling for our flight to board.

This flight was only about three hours, and I had the window seat, next to two strangers. After about five minutes of sitting, waiting for everyone else to get to their seats, I established that neither one of them spoke English. I pulled out my envelope, and read through the second half of the stack of papers. Then I stared out the window for the rest of the flight.

Once the plane landed and we were allowed off, I met up with Casey, Sarah and Chuck, and once again, we made our way to get our luggage, and then to the customs line. Almost as soon as we made it through customs, Chuck flashed on our CIA contact, and before we knew it, we were heading to our hotel.

I looked around in fascination as we traveled, although my first thought when we stepped out of the airport was that it was _cold_ here. This was Kiev, a city whose surrounding area I had studied in depth for four months, several lifetimes ago in high school, and hadn't stopped thinking about since.

The CIA contact, who we learned was simply called Phil, acted as translator as we checked into our hotel. We were handed four keys to two rooms, and we made our way through the halls to our rooms. Several floors up, we stood in the hallway in between two rooms.

Phil had left to pick up the gear that had been shipped to us, and promised to return in time for dinner. I was assumed I would be rooming with Sarah but when I voiced this assumption, I was informed that I was wrong.

"I'm _not_ sleeping with Casey," Chuck announced.

"Not interested, Bartowski," Casey replied. I sighed.

"Well, get going, Walker. Looks like you're sharing with Bartowski," Casey said. Sarah gave him her best sarcastic-oh-please look.

"Someone's got to protect the asset," I added, secretly glad to be sharing the room with Casey and not Sarah. I had gotten used to sharing a living space with him, and it worked, because neither of us cared much for talking. Sarah has her own set of annoying tendencies (she hums when she's bored, which reminds me of my mother), and Bartowski talks far too much. I couldn't help but think that clearly Casey and I had gotten the better end of this deal as he unlocked the door.

I set my bags down and headed straight for the bathroom to shower, and I was glad to be wearing non-wrinkled clothes. When I exited the bathroom feeling much better, I found Casey talking to Phil in the doorway, and I noticed a pile of boxes. Our gear had arrived. Apparently, we had adjoining rooms, which I realized when Sarah peeked in to see if the gear had arrived.

I opened boxes until I found winter coats, and pulled out the one in my size. I had gotten a little too used to the California heat. We left the hotel with Phil, and we were all wearing winter coats, despite the fact that Phil insisted that 35oF was warm.

Since we had a limited budget, courtesy of government funded travel, we had to make sure the places we chose to eat weren't too expensive. When we were seated and handed menus at the restaurant Phil had chosen, we all began to look at the pictures in the menu, to try to figure out what looked good.

"Uhm, Phil, I'm not sure we can afford some of this," Chuck said, obviously looking at the prices. The items were priced between 100 and 150 UAH. Realizing I had neglected to look up the exchange rate, I frowned. We had fifty US dollars a day.

"One US dollar is about eight UAH," Phil explained. "So most of this food is between twelve and eighteen dollars." That sounded much more reasonable. "It's also common here for the men to order for the women," Phil added.

I pointed to a red soup with meat and vegetables in it.

"I'll try this," I said to Casey. He grunted.

A few minutes later, the food was ordered, and we discussed the plans for our mission. By the time we were finished eating, we had a relatively solid plan. My soup was quite good, although I still have no idea what exactly it was. We returned to the hotel, and Phil left us for the night, promising to return in the morning to ensure that we found our way to the tour.

Casey took a shower, and I stared out the window at a completely foreign city. I had thought that my research would have prepared me somewhat to be here, but I was wrong. I didn't speak or understand Ukrainian, and I wasn't familiar with the culture and customs. I know Chernobyl, not Kiev.

I did know, however, that this mission was going to make all the other missions I had been on since my arrival in California seem tame. This time, if we screwed up, there would be no backup. There would be no second CIA team coming to rescue us.


End file.
